Chapter 16

The sun was just struggling up over the horizon as Cal drove past the corn fields of the farms outside of town. The stalks were waist high, which meant right on schedule.

“Knee-high by the Fourth of July,” Cal recited the adage to himself as he drove.

It was just past the Fourth, so the corn was where it ought to have been—possibly a little higher, owing to the hot weather in late June. They had taken an inch of rain two nights before, so that was better yet.

“Things are sure a lot simpler on the farm,” he thought as he drove. “No need to worry about Annexes, protesters and guys like Jack Ross. Just wade into a cornfield on the Fourth of July. If the tassels hit your belt, you’ve got it made.”

He shook his head in wonderment at the truth of it all. It was so easy, but there it was, tried and true and no one could doubt it—not like other things. He started whistling a happy tune as he rounded the final bend in the road. The old farmhouse came into view.

He’d nearly forgotten that Edwin would be there. He stopped whistling. If it hadn’t been for their fight earlier in the week, he wouldn’t have stopped whistling. But the fight was a simple fact, just like the adage about the corn. One way or the other, it would have to be handled, for their parents’ sake, if no other reason.

He strained his vision in the half-light of dawn. He didn’t see Edwin’s pick-up truck by the barn—no surprise there. The light in his parents’ room was lit. No surprise there, either. He was glad he was early. If his dad saw him arrive he might get the hint and take the whole day off and it would be well-deserved. If Edwin would show up it would make it easier for him to do that.

His thoughts returned to their fight that week.

“I’ll make it up to Edwin,” he promised. “If it works out, I’ll let him off from paying the three-fifty he owes me, just as a show of goodwill.”

He was pretty sure the money would work to thaw the ice.

“Well, part of the three-fifty, anyway.”

Cal parked his car near the house and went into the barn. He called out for Edwin, just to be sure that his brother hadn’t yet arrived, which he had not. He saw that the cows weren’t in the barn, either. He put on a pair of rubber boots and some coveralls he found near the entrance and walked to the far side of the barn. The mangers were empty. He would have to fill them with feed before he brought the milkers in to take their places in the stalls. Through the closed door to the paddock he could hear the herd mooing in anticipation.

He wasn’t ready for them, and he didn’t think he could handle the herd by himself. He set about to work while he waited for Edwin to show up. He finished with the feed and set about checking the flow in the lines and that all the stalls were ready.

He checked the hose with the disinfectant, too, that he’d use to spray down the udders after he wiped them off. He hoped Edwin would show up on time so that his father could have a real day off.

“He’s probably out at his cabin shacked up with Roxie.”

He hadn’t realized that he’d been working as long as he had when a sudden burst of light invaded the barn by way of the double doors that led to the paddock. He couldn’t see who opened the doors. He heard a man’s voice raised over the sound of the cows. He listened a little closer. It was Edwin. Cal sighed in relief.

The herd trudged in the open part of the barn and the leader made her way to the far end stall, just like always. The rest of the herd followed her lead. Cal stole a glance at Edwin. They didn’t speak. Each took a side of the milking parlor, cleaning the udders and teats and then attaching the clusters. Each knew the job. They worked fast.

“Just like old times,” Cal whispered and indulged himself in an inward smile.

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” Edwin barked at Cal as he finished with the last cow.

Cal turned and looked at him, trying to look in his brother’s eyes to see if they were bloodshot.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he replied.

“Well, you know, after I let you whup me in your office, an all...”

“You didn’t let me,” Cal answered back. “It was a fair...”

“Ha!” Edwin laughed. “You didn’t come out for another piece of me, did you? You better quit while you’re ahead, big brother. It might not go so easy for you on the second try.”

Edwin turned and strode to the other end of the barn. The younger Tucker had a way of admitting defeat in a way that deprived the victor of any satisfaction. He was laughing at Cal, as though the fight was a big joke and Edwin didn’t care if he’d won or lost.

“Yes it sure is like old times,” Cal repeated.

His brother didn’t hear him over the sound of the pumps. Maybe Edwin had won the fight after all. For the moment he went back to tending to the milking.

In a while they were done. The cows were led out to the pasture. The two men set about cleaning the manure out of the stalls and setting it on the conveyor to load it into the spreader. They came together again.

“You’re the one I thought wouldn’t show up,” Cal said. “I figured you’d be out at your cabin shacked up with Roxie and I’d have to go out there and drag you out of bed.”

“Not guilty,” Edwin pleaded and raised his right hand as though he expected Cal to put a bible under his left one. “I haven’t seen Roxie since the night of the Fourth when you bird-dogged her from me.”

“I thought I told you...” Cal shot back. He must have had anger in his eyes.

“Hey, big brother,” Edwin laughed. “Don’t get riled. Maybe you did and maybe not. I don’t really care, and that’s the truth.”

Cal put his hands on his hips. He believed his brother for once. Roxie had been acting in some strange ways in recent days.

“Where do you suppose she is?” Cal asked. “Have you called her? Who do you suppose she’s taken up with?”

“Woo-hoo!” Edwin hooted. “Big brother’s lovesick. So, you didn’t bird-dog me, after all. But I can tell you sure wished you had.”

Edwin hopped on the tractor that was towing the manure wagon. He started the engine and it gave a loud growl. His laughing could be heard over the top of the engine’s noise. He drove off toward one of the hayfields to spread the fertilizer.

“Edwin can be a real jerk,” Cal muttered.

He turned his attention to the heifer pen and set about getting feed for them. After he was through he went to the barn entrance and changed out of the rubber boots and coveralls. There would be just enough time for a quick breakfast with his parents before they set off to Weedsport.

After his parents left on their daytrip Cal decided to spend the rest of the day on the farm. He looked around for something to do. Edwin was still out on the tractor dragging the honey wagon. It was good that he was. The easiest way they would get along, Cal reckoned, was if they stayed as far apart as possible.

Cal knew that the clutch mechanism on the baler was broken. He decided to give it a look, but he found that nothing was going to happen until a new part arrived for it. He searched for another job. The drainage ditch leading to the pond looked backed up. It was as good a place to start as any. The area around it was turning to muck and he detected the odor of algae starting to bloom. He went to start the backhoe, but it seemed like it was out of order, too.

Cal fiddled with it for about fifteen minutes and nothing looked too promising. He decided that he would leave it alone until he found out if Edwin had ordered any parts for it. He looked out over the fields for his brother. He saw the tractor and manure wagon parked out at the edge of the property. It sat within walking distance to Edwin’s cabin, so Cal figured that he wouldn’t be available to answer any questions about the backhoe very soon.

There was a shovel in the tool shed. He retrieved it and the rubber boots from the barn and then returned to the ditch.

“I’ll see if I can widen this out by hand.”

He set about digging. It was past mid-morning and the sun was hot in the July sky. Cal peeled off his shirt and bent harder to the task. He found that he was glad that the backhoe was broken. The digging stretched his muscles and the hot sun burned the sweat from his skin before it quite had the chance to drip all the way down his bare back.

He lost himself in the work, the sun and the smell of the muck that was making his nostrils flare. His back ached and his arms were tired. That made him dig all the harder. From time to time he stopped to inspect the widened channel that he’d carved out and noticed that the water was starting to flow down the hill with a lot more speed. He was happy—with the work he had done, and other things.

He heard the tractor approaching. He didn’t care. Edwin would probably mock or deride him somehow. Why should he care? His brother was a fool—what could be the value of words from a fool? Maybe his brother would just drive by, park the honey wagon near the barn and leave him alone.

“A little outta’ yer element, aren’t ya,” his brother sneered.

He stopped the tractor ten yards from where Cal was working and idled the engine. Cal stopped digging and looked up at Edwin sitting behind the wheel. The smell of dung mixed with that of the muck in the ditch. It seemed right.

“Backhoe wouldn’t start,” Cal answered. “This ditch needs widening out.”

“I can get the backhoe started. Ya got to jimmie the butterfly valve in the carburetor.”

Cal almost asked his brother why he didn’t simply fix the carburetor. He started to, but stopped himself because he remembered he knew the answer already. Edwin was the type who took shortcuts, and ended up going the long way around just the same. Cal remembered a time when their father would never have allowed that. The backhoe would have been fixed straightaway, no questions asked. Times were sure different.

“C’mon outta there,” Edwin ordered.

Cal shook his head.

“I’m almost done.”

“Well I’d bet that ya stink near as much as I do,” Edwin accused. “Not a very lawyer kind of way to smell. Maybe you figure Roxie might like it.”

“Screw yourself, Edwin,” Cal shot back.

His brother laughed.

“Can’t take a little joke? I figured ya couldn’t. Always gotta have yer nose outta joint.”

Cal thought that Edwin might be right, for once. He decided to change the subject.

“Well, if you haven’t been with her, and I haven’t either, where do you think she is?”

“Don’t worry about Roxie,” Edwin answered. “She gets like this once in a while. She’ll get it outta her system in her own time. I’ll be in the Dew Drop some night and look up, and there she’ll be. Maybe even tonight. What goes ‘round, comes ‘round, so they say.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Cal said.

Edwin started laughing again and then drove off. Cal wanted to run after him, make him explain what he meant. He wanted to demand that he explain why he laughed at him. He was only asking about Roxie, after all. He shook his head. What would his brother be able to explain to him? He was a fool, after all. He turned back to shoveling out the trench.

He toiled another hour until the job was done. When he finished he stood alongside it and watched the water running free. He’d done a good job. He was tired and happy. He went into the barn to wash up. After that, he would fix himself some lunch and relax for a bit until it was time for afternoon milking.

Cal found that his back was sunburned as he put his shirt back on after washing up in the barn. It hurt, but it was worth it. He was about to go up to the house and fix some lunch, maybe have a beer. He stopped and wondered if he should ask his brother if he wanted him to fix some for him, too. Cal couldn’t find him, so if Edwin showed up he would have to fend for himself. There was some ham in his parents’ refrigerator and he made a sandwich and took a bottle of beer to go with it. There was a baseball game on the TV.

Cal was tired from digging the trench. The back of the upholstered chair he sat in scratched at his sunburned back, even through his shirt. His muscles ached. All-in-all, he felt good. The game was just starting so he sat back and relaxed. The cold beer unparched his throat and he realized that he was hungry.

He deserved a little break after the work he’d done. When a man’s rest comes after it’s been earned it savors well. He sat back and put his feet up on a footstool. He didn’t plan to watch all of the game, of course. Afternoon milking was not that far off, and if he put his mind to it there were probably a few more chores that he could...

When Cal woke up the ball game was in the bottom of the eighth inning. He looked over to the table beside his chair. The beer was half-gone. The sandwich was finished. At first he was too groggy to realize what time it was. Then he woke up some more and jumped up and ran out to the barn.